


I worship at the altar of your body, whether you like it or not

by AriesDraco



Series: Creative Indecency [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Forced Kiss, Graphic descriptions of kinky sex acts, I hope I haven't missed anything, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Please use discretion, Rape, Religious Themes, Remus Sanders is a content warning, Vomit, Where do I begin, daddy jokes, distasteful Disney joke, distasteful priest jokes, forced blowjob, no pedo stuff actually happens, pedophilia jokes, victim blaming language, what angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 17:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20624459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesDraco/pseuds/AriesDraco
Summary: In which Remus decides to, in no particular order, roleplay as a Catholic choirboy, generate endorphins, watch Fantasia, visit a confessional, and attempt to have wild kinky sex with a 100% not-down-with-it Deceit.





	I worship at the altar of your body, whether you like it or not

He loved it when Deceit put up a fight, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to pry him off the delicious cock he was sucking. It just made him hard, and suck harder, hollowing his cheeks and slurping obscenely, leaning in until he was gagging and breathless, cock jammed right down the back of his throat. 

“Fuck,” gasped Deceit, doubling down on his efforts to pull him off. It was, he mused, like popping the cork off a well-shaken bottle of champagne, or in this case, cock, and he vomited all over Deceit’s crotch. 

It was bitter, and sour, and he licked his lips. Deceit dropped him like Disney dropped sexually-active former child stars, but he managed to grab one hand. Or at least, one glove off his hand. He brought it up to his face and huffed it like a bag of bug spray, making heavy eye contact with an increasingly horrified Deceit, before making a show of fellating the empty fingers and then pushing the yellow cloth up his ass. It burned a little, like all good things, whiskey, house fires, urinary tract infections.

He sat back on his knees and fluttered his lashes grotesquely. “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty… oo, wait, that didn’t come out right.” But wasn’t it funny that it was basically the same thing though? “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned.”

Deceit shook his head in disbelief. “No.”

Remus tried to look properly contrite, though the effect was probably mitigated by how he had no pants on, just a hard on. “Can we skip to the part where you diddle me like a choir boy?”

“You mussssst be joking.” 

“Pretty please? With my cherry on top? Only joking, you already have that, but we can make neapolitan man cream if you fuck me in the ass right now! See, it’s neapolitan because…”

“What part of NO do you not understand?” Deceit looked like he was honestly (heh, honestly) contemplating washing his eyes out with bleach, which sounded fun, because bleach made eyes go all foggy, like the nictitating membrane on shark eyes when they’re eating people. Deceit’s snake eye had a nictitating membrane too, but not his human eye. Remus knew because he’d checked after removing them both.

“The N part,” he replied, licking his lips. “Because I can’t wait to get to the O.” He couldn’t, he really couldn’t. Deceit was right there, pants around his ankles because they were covered in vomit and he looked delicious. "I want you in my butt."

"Oh dear god why." 

He knew it was just a rhetorical question but he didn't really care. "Because sex feels amazing and you can always do the thing where you close your eyes and pretend that I'm Roman."

Deceit was so offended, he was speechless. He looked like one of those angry baby snakes that puffed up and hissed and tried to bite people, failing to accomplish anything because they were too small and easily crushable if not handled with some care. 

Care was not something he could provide. "Brain dolphins," he concluded, and Deceit squinted at him, confusion written all over his face. "Endogenous morphine is released during orgasms. They're not really dolphins. The spontaneous creation of dolphins within your skull would result in a massive meat explosion, killing both you and the dolphins, raining blood, guts and grey matter everywhere." Now that was funny, and he couldn't help cackling in glee.

And now Deceit was back to utterly horrified again, which was a normal reaction to his presence, but there had been a point to this, a point he was rapidly losing track of. He created a confessional booth around them, and gave Deceit a nice cassock so he didn't have to watch Remus get back to sucking his cock.

"Stop that," hissed Deceit, grabbing for his hair under the cassock to pull or push him away. He bit, just a little, digging his fingers into Deceit's thighs as a warning. 

Deceit was not at all excited, but he was used to it. It usually took a bit of encouragement, and he loved giving blowjobs anyway. He sucked until his jaw ached, until his throat was raw, until Deceit stopped fighting, leaning against the wall of the confessional, breathing raggedly. 

He popped himself out from under the cassock and took a moment to admire how flushed and flustered Deceit's human side looked, contrasted against the unflappable snake side. It was only cosmetic, though. Whatever he looked like on the outside, Deceit was largely human on the inside. He'd checked it himself, organ by organ, and found nothing but the nictitating membrane. It was a little disappointing that Deceit didn't have two penises, like a snake, but the one he had felt nice in his hand, and would feel even nicer up his butt. 

He conjured up a chair, forcing Deceit to sit down while he straddled him, hand still working away under the cassock. Deceit had had his eyes shut until the sudden change in position, and tried futilely to jerk away when Remus kissed him, all open-mouthed and wet. Deceit tasted nice, like surprise liquorice in an otherwise harmless chocolate treat, but Remus knew that he probably tasted like vomit and pre-cum, as evidenced by the violent retching that ensued. Deceit did manage to somehow keep his stomach contents within his person, however, merely glaring with watery eyes and slapping his naked hand on Remus's mouth to keep him from trying that again.

It was so rare to see Deceit ungloved, to see the scars, some old, some fresh, the consequence of handling prickly truths, of fulfilling his purpose. Remus kissed it, tracing the marks with teeth and tongue, maintaining a death grip on his wrist when he tried to pull away. He sucked on each finger suggestively and Deceit looked away, looking like he was going to be sick.

Remus took the opportunity to impaled himself on Deceit's cock, hard and fast, feeling himself ripping and tearing and stretching to accommodate the sudden intrusion. He moaned like a cheap prostitute, wriggling his ass in an attempt to fit it all in. 

"Fuck!"

It was more like chafing than fucking, really, but if he could just bleed a little more, or a lot more. Blood was a shitty lubricant, but enough of anything wet usually helped at least a little. He was giddy with glee, because the pain was flooding his brain with endorphins, because they were finally doing the do.

He grabbed Deceit's face, and stared him in the eye, watching mismatched pupils constrict, trying to get the focal length down to the two inches between them. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he repeated. "This is my first confession."

"Go to hell!"

"I love you."

Deceit's eyes widened and he froze for one long moment. Then his face contorted in rage as he flung Remus right through the flimsy prop confessional. 

Now that hurt. Literally. His shoulder felt like it had been dislocated where it hit the wall, and then the floor, but that was what he deserved for using plywood anyway. Plywood that was presently impaling him through his abdomen. 

"You…!" And wasn't that a gorgeous sight, Deceit shaking with righteous fury, striding over to stomp the plywood the rest of the way through him. Pain, and blackness exploding behind his eyes, and he laughed, because wasn't this amazing? To get such a reaction? It was certainly better than being ignored. "How could you? How _dare_ you?"

Rhetorical questions again, when Deceit knew full well that there was no rhyme or reason, that it was just what he was. For whom love was not puppies and rainbows, but more of drinking their bathwater, watching them from under their beds as they slept, kidnapping them, amputating their limbs and keeping them in a box in the cellar. Which he did try, but then he got bored because it was more fun when Deceit could fight back. Because Deceit was not Deceit when he was pretending to be an empty doll.

"Oo, daddy, hurt me more," he wheezed, grinning a bloody grin, the metallic taste filling his mouth. That would be the punctured lung, maybe. 

There was a boot against his face, but to his disappointment, Deceit declined to step on him, instead reaching down and yanking the shard of plywood out of his chest, leaving a gaping, gently bubbling hole.

"Hey, if you cum in my throat, do you think it'll leak out of here?"

"I enjoy how you are trying to suggest that I have the faintest interest in helping you test your theory," replied Deceit in a tone that said plainly "Fuck no, fuck you, fuck off" but at least they were talking and he'd put the image in Deceit's head. There were a myriad other things he wanted to put in Deceit's head via various orifices, but mostly...

"But think about the endorphins!" he protested, gurgling slightly. 

"I'm sure this is totally not a stupid question to ask and I'm absolutely certain that you will have a straight answer for this, but what _about_ the endorphins?"

"They'll take the pain away and make you happy."

He was what he was, a chaotic ball of twistedness, the leftovers when All That's Good had been distilled away into the Prince. He could not apologise because he regretted nothing, not one single stolen moment, not the skull-fucking, not the bathwater, not the sausages. He wanted what he wanted and he took what he could, because if he didn't, he would get nothing. Softness, kindness, compassion, were merely jumbles of letters and syllables that meant nothing to him. All he could give was pain. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Pain for pain.

He reached out and grabbed Deceit by the ankle, stroking the little bump of the bone through his yellow socks. "Come on," he cajoled, "Pity sex? Hate sex? I want your snake up my butthole, right next to your glove? You can punish me as much as you want? Or maybe you want to fuck this new hole?"

“Remus… Did you really think that there is _anything_ that I can do to you that can make up for _everything_ you did to me?” 

"Not really," replied Remus candidly. "You're too kind to do anything truly heinous, and I'm way too kinky to torture anyway." The gaping hole in his chest was a nice aesthetic, but it was also pretty difficult to continue chattering when half the air was escaping through it. He pulled himself together and sat up cross-legged on the ground instead, like a small child in a classroom who had shit his pants and now had to go pants-less until the teacher was done washing his poop-covered pants. "So why not feel really good for like five minutes?"

"Yes, for sssure I want a part in thisss," hissed Deceit.

"Well, you haven't left, have you?" He rolled onto his feet, wagging his finger. "Even though you keep saying no, you're still here. And that definitely means that you're secretly looking forward to the wild kinky sex we will be having… or that you think you deserve to be raped by this demented figment of someone's imagination."

"What are you… this isn't… I… no…" 

He would have liked it if it had been the former, but he was under no illusions that it had ever been an option. Perhaps once, long ago, when they were young enough that the most depraved thing he could imagine was giving someone a blowjob, at once hitting the hygiene, religion, and sex taboos. When Deceit was at the height of his power, holding him down and smothering him, even as he spasmed and twitched and moaned and begged and came and came and came. He shivered delightedly at the memory, of being told to shut up, of forcing Deceit to _make him stop_, of having his full attention instead of being ignored as he usually was because the others were too horrified to _deal with him_. But no, it wouldn't have worked even then. He was, after all, himself, and Deceit was only doing his job, having to handle all the dirty work, the figuratively and literally dirty work that no one else would do. 

But it was nice to imagine, and he was imagination, after all. If he were Roman, he would reach out and sweep Deceit into his embrace, declare his undying devotion with some hackneyed second-rate vomit-inducing sappy cliche, and Deceit would be happy, and safe and loved. But he was Remus, and Deceit flinched when he reached out, because that was the only reasonable reaction to what he was going to do.

"So long as you think this is all you deserve, this is all you get," he told Deceit reasonably while he ripped tearaway paedophile priest costume off his body, coming soon to a store near you, just in time for Halloween, leaving Deceit trying to cover himself and maintain some semblance of decency, though honestly, anyone who had worn one of those costumes probably had none left. "You don't deserve it, obviously. Personally, I think you're too hard on yourself, but this is just hard enough for me."

He almost made it, but Deceit intercepted both of his hands, forcing him to remain at arms length. Those mismatched eyes glared at him from underneath a frown, and it looked like Deceit wanted to say something, but couldn't quite find the words to. 

"Would it be any use for me to ask you, what are you doing?" asked Deceit wearily, finally.

Remus took a moment to pretend to consider the question. "Nope."

"Why are you doing this?"

Remus shrugged. 

Deceit sighed, then took a deep breath and

Left.

Remus blinked, looking around the room to make sure. Then he fished the glove out of his ass and fapped with it until he was bored, and went to watch Fantasia for the 79th time.

**Author's Note:**

> The last fic was easy, this was torture, because Remus kept running off on weird tangents and refusing to advance the plot, and making suggestive comments at EVERY line of dialogue, forcing re-write after re-write after re-write. But it's out, so suck it! Or don't. That's... that's gross. Stop it.


End file.
